Chapter Text
Alennia Morton was a half-blood of no note up until the day she died.
Born to a muggle and a squib who’d long been cast out of some fourth cousin’s side to some noble family, she’d been just as looked over as you might expect.
She’d received her Hogwarts letter at 14, same as everyone else, to the utter joy and bittersweet relief of her parents. She’d been sorted into Ravenclaw and got passing grades, though no one would ever say she was the brightest of the bunch. She had acquaintances who liked her well enough, though she was painfully shy and had no very close friends.
Alennia was lucky in a few respects: She was born to kind parents who made sure she grew up with healthy boundaries and good morals. She was also fortunate enough to have lived after the horrible Wizarding War. She’d even been in the same year as the Boy-Who-Lived in Hogwarts!
All in all, she was an average girl, who’d lived an average life.
Her premature death was an unfortunate accident.
Her parents had scored some tickets to the Quidditch World Cup, presenting them as an 18th Birthday present. She’d been over the moon. Her crush on the Bulgarian seeker, Viktor Krum, wasn’t exactly a secret from her parents. Her bedroom was plastered with his posters.
The match had been glorious. Her eyes lit up from within watching the players sweep over the pitch. Ireland winning wasn’t the loss her parents thought it would be–Krum still caught the snitch!
It was after the match that things got a bit complicated. The Mortons were snuggled up around a communal campfire near the stadium, reveling in the company and the merry atmosphere, when the Death Eaters attacked.
It was over quick.
No one had their wands out, and no one was expecting such a horrible end to the evening. Her parents fell to a green flash she’d only ever heard about in books. It was a stray spell to the side of the stadium, resulting in the collapse of part of the stands on top of her, that killed her.
In the end, Alennia Morton died of a head injury. It was a mundane death for a mundane girl.
—-
Lenny woke up in a hospital.
The white walls surrounding her felt blinding in the overhead light. She twitched in the bed, squinting, and suddenly the light dimmed.
“Ms. Morton?”
The voice was gentle, but the name unfamiliar. Turning toward the source, she found a middle-aged man holding a clipboard and wearing strange white clothes that looked almost like bathrobes, but more finely made. Upon catching her eye, the man took a step forward with a gentle smile.
“It’s good to see you awake, Ms. Morton.” He addressed her, and she frowned. “You’ve been recovering for most of the day after the attack.”
“Attack?” she asked, confused.
He nodded, “Yes. How much do you remember?”
Lenny wracked her brain, trying to push through the sluggish crawl of her thoughts. When her memory couldn't turn up anything about an attack, she looked up with wide eyes into the doctor’s concerned face.
“After the World Cup, there was an attack on the crowd,” he spoke slowly, watching her expression for any sign of recognition. “There were several injured, yourself among them.”
“World Cup,” she muttered, skepticism plain in her voice. She didn't really like watching sports, and she wasn’t about to spend money on tickets to a game. Did she win some kind of raffle?
“Due to the nature of your head injury, we were worried there might be some trouble with your memory.” The man–was he the physician or the nurse–explained calmly. “Not to worry, we’re contracted with some of the best mind healers in the Wizarding World. Should the problem persist, we will refer you to a specialist.”
In the what now?
Maybe the absolute befuddlement was clear on her face, as the doctor’s expression wavered for a moment.
“May I ask what the last thing you remember is, Ms. Morton?”
Sitting in the backseat of Jen’s car as they drove home from the concert. Todd was at the wheel by that point, with Jen sleeping against her shoulder. The night shift was the worst, but Todd had always liked driving at night, the loon.
But, something else felt a bit more pressing at the moment.
“I’m sorry,” she said, wincing as a sudden pain hit her head. She reached up to rub at the spot but found a gauzy material covering the top section of her forehead, wrapping all the way around. “But, who is Ms. Morton?”
The hours that followed were filled with a revolving door of different physicians and specialists, or healers as they called themselves. She did her best to keep up, but the evident truth was difficult to grasp. They filled her in on her name and the situation she found herself in. They even delivered the horrible news that her, or Ms. Morton’s, parents had been killed. She might have cried for the poor girl they thought her to be, but she was wrapped up with trying to come to terms with a few facts.
One, she had somehow found herself in the Wizarding World she’d read about in books and seen on the screen.
It was more than a little concerning, even if she was slightly delighted at the opportunity her younger self would have leapt at. She was nearing her 30s and had outgrown certain aspects of her old hyperfixation–mostly due to necessity since the truth of the author came to light.
She’d dreamed of magic for years. However, she’d solidified her adult life back home, and the reality of being ripped from it was horrifying to grasp. While she intended to try and enjoy whatever fever dream this was, she was determined to return to the life she’d built.
The second realization was even more confounding and came when they’d handed her a small mirror for her to check the extent of the wound on her skull.
As they slowly unwrapped the gauze, she held the mirror up to her face and struggled not to gape. It wasn’t at the thin, silvery scar on the left side of her forehead, starting midway up and ascending to disappear into her hairline. It wasn’t even at the sudden youth that seemed to overtake her body. It was that, simply, this was not her body.
High cheekbones defined an aristocratic face. The strong jawline was so much sharper than her own rounded one. When she looked for brown, she instead found that her eyes were a steely grey, so pale they almost blended into the whites of her eyes. Where a dyed blonde buzzcut used to be, she now sported long dark brown locks that curled gently around her shoulders.
It was a pretty face, young and showing promising features for an older beauty.
And it didn’t belong to her.
Her labored breathing after that was chalked up to the news of her parents' passing and the stress of the situation. She was thankful for it. While the circumstances weren’t the best, she was well aware of how much worse they could be.
In a world where mind readers and memory charms existed, she was absolutely not willing to risk drawing the wrong kind of attention. Sticking to her complete amnesia story, she managed to keep the majority of suspicion at bay.
When the Healer told her they could inform Hogwarts about the situation to ensure the professors would be equipped to help, she hesitated.
“When does school start?” she asked, keeping her voice as neutral as she could.
The idea of going to Hogwarts was exciting. Everything else that came with Hogwarts was less appealing. She wasn’t interested in avoiding a mass murderer. And, considering how old she was, she’d likely have to be taking the hardest courses for her final year.
Going by the fact that the World Cup the Healer mentioned was attacked by Death Eaters, she was somewhere right at the start of Goblet of Fire. The easiest way to avoid that drama would be to not enter her name.
Easy peasy.
Then she just had to make it out of Hogwarts and hide away in America for a couple of years to avoid the War and she’d be golden.
What was she thinking?
How could she think about the next few years when she was hoping to wake up or snap out of whatever this was as quickly as possible? If she was lucky, she’d wake up to Jen shaking her shoulder once they got back home. All the plans she made right now needed to be temporary fixes.
“The Express leaves in a little less than a week.” The Healer gave her a patient smile.
“Alright,” She nodded, “If you think it would be for the best.”
At least this way, some of her abnormalities will be explained away. The less scrutiny she was under from Albus Dumbledore, the better. Plus, she might remember quite a bit about the world of Harry Potter, but she couldn't pretend to be at N.E.W.T. level.
The Healer nodded in agreement, “Thankfully, from what I hear, you will have time to catch up. They seem to be postponing the exams for the year.”
Right. The Triwizard Tournament did that.
Pros: No N.E.W.T.
Cons: Dead children.
Then it got weirder.
“Hopefully, with help from a mind healer, you’ll have your memory back in time for your O.W.L.S next year.” He continued.
Alright. Now, it had been a while since she’d watched the movies, and even longer since she’d read the books. But, she knew for certain that fourth-year students were in the 14 to 15-year-old range. And, while her ability to tell people’s ages based solely on looks was poor, the face she’d seen in the mirror couldn't have been that young.
She let it go, smiling wordlessly. Whatever the discrepancies were, or whether or not this man might have been slightly off his rocker, she’d have time to figure it out. It was better to go with the flow at the moment.
From there, she was released with a care regimen that was relatively simplistic: take it easy and drink the potion they sent her out with at dinner time. They told her she’d be receiving mail from a specialist within a couple of weeks to check in.
It was strange how easily they’d let her go, but she was considered a legal adult. That meant she was able to go back to her parents’ – Ms. Morton’s parents’ – home and consider it her own, preempting the reading of the will that had yet to be scheduled. She found out her exact birthdate from them when she’d asked, and the Healer had even been so kind as to offer a copy of her medical record they had on file, so she could go over it in case it helped jog her memory.
At the very least, now she knew her body’s name.
Alennia Morton. Lenny rubbed at her temples. Her legal name was Eleanor Mordell, not that she’d ever respond to it. It felt a little too ridiculous, like she’d been misfiled or something.
Walking toward the lobby, there was a little side desk she’d been told to stop at on her way out where they kept the personal effects of the overnight patients. She only needed to show them the slip of paper the Healer had given her, and the clerk slipped into a side room to grab a nondescript bag full of items.
She was halfway to the door when she realized she didn’t have a wand. It wasn’t something she was used to having, but it was something she knew she should have. Stepping back to the desk, she got a sympathetic frown and a ‘sorry, it was destroyed in the accident’.
So, she was empty-handed, figuratively. Starting from ground zero.
She ran a hand through her hair, wincing when her fingers caught on a curl instead of gliding over a smooth buzz.
Right. Okay, I can do this. Start with the basics.
She started a list in her head:
One, figure out the housing situation—if she was going to be here for a while, she wasn’t about to be thrown into homelessness. What even were the property taxes in the Wizarding World?
Two, she needed a wand.
Three, make a plan that ensures her survival.
And four, she thought in some small, secluded part in her mind, don’t ruin this kid's life. She’ll be back, eventually.
First things first, she pulled out the slip of paper that was attached to the house key she’d been given. The address wasn’t anything magnificent, but it was the location that put a sparkle in her eyes.
Vertic Alley.
Thankfully, the small off-shoot of St. Mungo’s that she’d been staying at was located near the corner of Vertic Alley and Natur Alley, so she didn’t have to figure out a way to get into the strange mazelike Wizarding hub to begin with.
She’d definitely need a map, though.
Affecting her best poker face, she strolled through the Alley, scanning her environment as she went. The storefronts were less showy than she’d read about in the books. Maybe that was another change from what she knew, or maybe Diagon was simply known for its flair.
Whatever the case, she quickly made her way to the location provided without too much distraction. The Mortons had bought and lived in a modest two-bedroom condo on the second floor of a small building at the far end of the Alley. It was quiet there, with little foot traffic.
Lenny smiled as she approached the door, key in hand. Apparently, the thing was matched to her ‘magical signature’ and couldn't be used by others to break in. It must make it easier for home security.
Twisting the key in the lock, Lenny stepped into the main living area of the condo. There was a simple couch and a worn loveseat facing a muggle television. The technology wasn’t quite at flatscreen development, but it was slimmer and more advanced than she expected for the time period she remembered the books to be set in.
The kitchen was small for a family of three, and the compact dining table could have only fit 4 at most.
For someone who hadn’t lived alone since she’d turned 20, it brought up quiet memories. Lenny took a deep breath, walking toward the hallway on the far end of the room.
The first door on her right was a bathroom that had neutral decor and a small shower caddy full of fruity-smelling toiletries that she grimaced at. Once again reminded that she was in the body of a teenager, she resolved to leave the girl’s things alone for the time being.
Moving on, she found Alennia’s bedroom.
There was a double bed in the corner of the room, and a tiny desk opposite it. A mixture of muggle technology in the form of a laptop as well as quills and parchment were scattered across it. A bookshelf on one side of the room held a treasure trove, at least in Lenny’s opinion.
The girl kept all her textbooks from her previous years, lined up in order on the top two rows of the bookshelf. Below them were a variety of other topics: an encyclopedia of magical creatures, potion ingredients, and even muggle romance novels.
Lenny grinned at the collection. She doubted she’d touch on the romance novels, but the books on magic were going to be a necessity in the coming days. Even the ones for the coming year were present, shoved into a plain-looking trunk at the foot of her bed.
She’d have to prepare a lot before heading off to Hogwarts.
Which was the plan.
It felt like a bad one, but it was all she could truly think to do. She wouldn't have to touch the main plot, knowing how it would end. All she would do is take her time learning the wonders of magic in one of the highest-regarded places of education in the magical world.
When she was younger, she was decent at school, but it was never her main focus. This time, she intended to be a model student.
Keep her head down, get decent grades, but nothing too attention-grabbing.
Take copious notes so the body she was borrowing could go over them when the correct soul reattached to it. She didn’t want Alennia to be behind in school if she could help it.
She could do this.
Taking a look around the room, she cringed at the large posters on the walls. Viktor Krum was a popular Quidditch player, but five posters were too many. Getting up from her crouched position, she made her way over to the closet. Opening it, she was greeted with overly colorful shirts and skirts in a variety of pinks and purples.
“Alright,” Lenny sighed. “Maybe a small investment wouldn’t hurt.”
She couldn't very well spend however long she was going to be here wearing things that made her skin itch and eyes burn. Screw consistency, she could pass off a new wardrobe easily enough. Plus, she’d spend half her time wearing the uniform.
Pushing through the hanging clothes to find the Hogwarts uniform on the side, she grimaced once more at the skirts.
Fine, and some trousers. At least the blue trim made it clear that Lenny wouldn’t have to worry about living in the snakes’ den.
With that, she took another look around the room before exiting and heading into the last room on the left side of the hallway.
The Mortons had good taste, Alennia aside. Their bedroom seemed to have a forest theme, with deep greens and rich browns in their furniture and decor. The king bed wasn’t too bad, either.
This, I can work with.
Stripping the sheets and carefully picking through and packing what clothes and other items Alennia might want to keep when she returned, Lenny made the space her own.
She grabbed the books, the useful ones at least, from Alennia’s room and placed them on the floor-to-ceiling bookcase her parents had against the far wall of the room. There were mostly novels with beaches on the covers, and a couple self help books with cheesy titles there that she put in a box and shoved under Alennia’s bed.
The shelves were left mostly empty, but she’d need the space for her future studies. She intended to, at least privately, delve deep into anything the magical world had to offer. She’d be getting a wide array of specialized books from the shops in the Alleys in the coming days.
Which meant money.
Thankfully, she knew that the Mortons had no other children, and they supposedly both worked before, so it shouldn’t be too much to hope for a decent amount of change to work with for the time being.
Lenny would have to figure something out for later, should she be here a while. She also didn’t want to drain the poor girl of all her funds before she got back.
Changing into a dark pair of trousers she found in the back of Alennia’s closet, along with a tucked-in button-down of her father’s, she made her way back out into the Alley to start her preparations for the days ahead.
First stop: Gringotts.
The bank was right on the corner of Vertic and Diagon Alley, so she only got a glimpse of the main alley before she slipped into the huge Goblin structure. And, while the goblins themselves were interesting, that's about all there was to it.
With a quick display of her key, she was able to grab some funds for the days to come, then she was back out. No fanfare, no blood inheritance test, or even a cart going down to the vault. They gave her a purse that connected to the liquid assets she was allowed access to, and the rest were still isolated until the will-reading.
Whenever that would be.
Shrugging, Lenny walked back out into Diagon with a smile and a plan.
She had to swear to herself she wouldn't go too crazy. Eyeing the fantastical items displayed along the way, she got stuck for a moment by Quality Quidditch Supplies. She didn’t think of herself as much of a sports person, but there was no way she’d give up on flying. It was difficult to comprehend why Hermione was so against it all.
People could fly.
Shaking her head, she continued to Ollivander’s.
The moment she stepped through Ollivander’s narrow doorway, the smell of aged wood and dust swirled into her nose. The space was small, with stacks of boxes lining the walls before the counter, yet the long hallways leading into the back indicated some intricate magic stretching the place.
“Hello?” she called out, trying not to let the eerie echo of her own voice disturb her too much. “Is anyone–”
“Holly and Unicorn Hair.”
Lenny nearly hit the tall ceiling with how high she jumped. Clutching her chest, she turned to see a man standing behind a stack of boxes, seemingly having appeared from thin air. Unkempt wispy eyebrows perched high on his brow above milky eyes that seemed to stare through her.
“9 ½ inches. Surprisingly swishy.”
“Good to see you, too, Mr. Olivander.” She caught her breath, running a hand over her buzzcut only to have it snag on the curls she found there instead. Detangling herself with a grimace, she walked to the counter he stood near. “Unfortunately, I find myself lacking the very same wand. Got into a bit of an accident.”
His answer was a tilt of his head, “Still your left hand?”
Shit.
“Ah,” She chuckled, trying to play it off, “I’ve actually had a bit of a head injury, and my coordination is a bit off. Trying my right for now.”
There was no question in his eyes as he nodded and turned, walking back into the stacks without another word.
Guess that sufficed, she shrugged.
Only a moment later, he returned with several boxes piled in his arms, nearly blocking his face from view. Setting a few down on the counter, he opened them to reveal three delicate-looking wands, each a different color.
“Starting from scratch, then. Very well.” He gestured to the open boxes. “Hover your hand above each and tell me if you feel any draw.”
Not how it went in the series, but hardly the most worrisome change so far.
Lenny did as asked, taking a moment to try and really ground herself so she could feel this ‘draw’ he referred to. When she bypassed all three wands with nothing, she looked back into his eyes with a grimace.
He muttered something unintelligible under his breath, obviously meant for himself. Pulling out another three, he opened them and gestured. “Again, if you don’t mind.”
Nearly 20 minutes and countless wands later and Lenny was starting to sweat.
There’s no way I could have been thrown so unceremoniously into this world only to end up without magic. This body had magic before!
Another set of boxes, and her hopes were fraying. Hovering her hand over the last in the trio, she paused, feeling a strange tingle in the tips of her fingers.
The furrow in her brow alerted Ollivander, who smiled a little too widely and sprinted into the back. When he came back, another pile of boxes were in his arms, and she tried not to sigh. She was relieved, at least, that they’d made some headway, but this process can’t truly be this long, can it?
It took another hour.
“A fusion of Alder and Ebony, Dragon Heartstring. 12 inches. Unyielding.” She didn't see his smile out of the corner of her eye, too busy staring at the wand in her hand.
It was gorgeous, with a simple design that fit perfectly in her hand. Nothing too showy, and nothing too outrageous that would get her investigated. She’d been halfway expecting some ridiculous unknown type of core that hadn't been seen before, but she was glad to not have to deal with the questions regarding that.
“Curious.” The man stated, drawing her attention once more. “This wand is so different from your previous one. Like completely different people.”
She kept her smile polite, “People can change a lot in a few years.”
“True enough.” He nodded, before waving her away when she dug out her wallet. “All Olivander’s wands come with a ten-year warranty. Yours didn’t even last five, so this one is covered.”
“Oh,” Her eyebrows rose, ”Thank you. Would I be able to purchase a wand holster from you?”
“Few ask.” He seemed to look less through her and more at her, then. “We have several with and without enchantments.”
Reaching under the desk, he pulled a display case up and set it on the counter. Wand holsters of all kinds and colors lay within.
“Arm holsters, leg holsters. Holsters enchanted to not let any other than the attuned party draw the wand, those resistant to fire and other elements.” He looked up from the display and back at her. “What were you looking for?”
“One of the forearm ones, I’m thinking.” She eyed the lot. “What would the cost be for one with all the bells and whistles?”
She left the shop four galleons lighter with her wand strapped to her arm and a smile on her face. Her next stop was Madam Malkins, where she quickly purchased some ready-made school trousers and button-downs before departing. Even the air in that place was stuffy.
All that was left was leisure shopping, which she was more than excited for. She’d given herself a budget so as not to draw too much on her funds, but she’d barely even touched it by the time she’d purchased herself the majority of a new wardrobe.
She’d gotten only a couple of comfier shirts, knowing she could at least wear Mr. Morton’s shirts to fill in the gaps. Some durable pants, a jacket, and a pair of nice dragon skin gloves that would grow with her were all she grabbed. After that, she moved on to a book bag.
Alennia must have had it with her at the World Cup, but lost it somewhere along the way. Either way, she needed something to help her carry her books and other utilities around. Taking a lesson from Hermione Granger, she decided to find something with ample space so she wouldn't be caught lacking if she was ever on the run.
Not that she anticipated that.
The store was back in Vertic Alley, and smelled of leather and oils when she walked in. All around the walls were bags and some jackets made with varying skins. Everything looked authentic, which meant expensive, but she knew this was one area where she’d need to invest.
Browsing for a moment, she was only slightly startled by the appearance of a teenager in front of her when she rounded a corner.
“Can I help you find…” The redheaded girl cut off, a small line appearing between her brows. “Do I know you?”
“Oh.” Lenny wasn’t really prepared for this. She thought she’d have time to plan. “Maybe? I’m going into my fourth year at Hogwarts.”
The confused expression cleared, and the girl’s eyes brightened. “Oh! Which house were you in?”
“Ravenclaw.” That confusion returned, so Lenny continued. “Please tell me we aren’t in the same house in the same year and we didn’t recognize each other. I don’t want to have to run away from embarrassment before making a purchase.”
The redhead laughed, and it lent her face a kind of warmth.
“No,” She waved the idea away. “I’m in my fifth year. Slytherin.”
“That explains why I didn’t recognize you.” Lenny’s smile didn't waver, even as de-escalation methods started to run through her head on the off chance she was about to experience her first go of this blood-purity nonsense. “You shed them yourself?”
“Wh–”
The girl cut off, following the pointed line of Lenny’s arm to the scaled bag on sale a little ways away. It shimmered green in the light, looking like it had come from a snake.
The girl snorted, looking back to Lenny, “A funny one?”
Lenny shrugged, “I have my days.”
She shook her head, holding out her hand, “Aveline.”
“Pleasure to meet you, Aveline.” She reached out, connecting their hands. “You can call me Lenny.”
She waited, but no question about her surname came. Instead, Aveline eyed her critically, but not unkindly.
“Did you wreck your trunk?” She asked.
“No, that’s still working,” Lenny said, “I’m actually looking for a new bookbag. Mine got lost.”
Aveline winced, “Then you’ll be wanting one of our summonables.”
After an explanation about the different charms available, where Aveline’s eyes glittered with genuine passion for ‘the family business’, Lenny concluded that her coin purse was going to be significantly lighter than when she walked in.
She bit her lip, staring at the line of more expensive bags she’d wandered over to.
“These ones can run much higher, but are nigh indestructible,” Aveline explained, pointing to a red scaled bag in the corner. “Or they are made of incredibly rare materials.”
Lenny sighed, “Rare materials aren’t what I'm looking for at the moment, but indestructible sounds smart. I’m looking for a more inconspicuous leather satchel with as much room inside as I can get. Something that can’t be taken from me or accessed by others, preferably. What’ve you got along those lines?”
Aveline’s friendly smile turned to a salesman’s smirk, and Lenny mourned their brief friendship.
“Don’t look too scared, kid,” the redhead laughed.
“You are not–you are barely older than me.” She only just caught herself.
“Sure, kid.” Aveline patted her shoulder, guiding her toward the back of the shop. They stopped in front of a section of nondescript but well made bags. “These are what you’re looking for. Every charm under the sun, making them both heavily protected but also incredibly convenient. They have spaces inside for libraries, living areas, storage, and more. And they all, of course, are within the legal limits of both expansion charms and nonharmful countermeasures.”
The intense eye contact Lenny got when Aveline said that made the truth clear.
“Of course,” Lenny tried not to grin. She was far too excited about this, even if the price was already haunting her.
“I take it you like?” Aveline asked, catching the glee Lenny couldn't quite hide.
“Oh, absolutely.” This solved several problems, including where she’d live should she have to go on the run for any reason. “Undetectable?”
Aveline snorted, “Please.”
She pulled out her wand, a willowy white piece of wood, and tapped on the buckle of one of the bags. The entire thing went invisible, and when Aveline waved a hand through the spot, it moved right through unhindered.
A disbelieving laugh bubbled in her chest, “Alright. That’s impressive.”
“I’m glad you think so.” Aveline’s voice was smug.
Grabbing a brown leather bag that looked quite plain to the eye, Lenny almost started making her way to the counter before she paused.
Side eyeing Aveline, she asked., “What do your sick looking jackets do?”
The evil grin that answered her made it abundantly clear how well-suited the redhead was for Slytherin.
Leaving the store, Lenny couldn’t even find it within herself to be bummed by the new hole in her pocket. The dark leather jacket wrapped her like a second skin, and the long list of enchantments it boasted was written in ink only visible to her eyes, summonable from the pocket.
Since she already had everything she’d need for school, she decided to call it a day. While she desperately wanted to head to Flourish and Blotts and cram her bags full with every book on magic imaginable, she figured getting some of the basics down first would be smart.
With that thought in mind, she headed back ‘home’, intent on starting in on Alennia’s old first-year textbooks and seeing how far she could make it before classes started up.
Thankfully, due to her brand-new incredible magic jacket, her magical signature would be untraceable to a degree while she was wearing it, so she’d be able to practice some of the spells instead of just doing the reading and hoping for the best. Or banking on the fact that most fanfiction said highly magical areas allowed those with the trace to use magic safely.
When she’d questioned Aveline on it, looking for something like that in specific, she’d gotten an intense stare that would have made her squirm were she as young as her body appeared, along with a ‘You sure you’re a Ravenclaw?’
Lenny had just winked, prompting an eye roll from the redhead.
Plopping down in the loveseat in the Morton’s living room with a stack of books beside her, she got to work.